Tuesday, February 14, 2017

V-DAY is a global movement to end violence against women and girls. One Billion Rising Revolution is solidarity to end the exploitation of women. February 14th is an opportunity for women and those that love them to stand together, celebrate women and girls and at the same time demand an end to the violence against women and girls worldwide.

Each year I try to find a new way to honor and stand with my sisters near and far. For V-DAY 2014 I wrote "Eve Ensler Kicks Off our VDAY Celebration" and "Celebrating VDAY!" This year brought a very special dream of mine into fruition. I had been working with a poem about the abuse, neglect, exploitation and violence directed at women, girls and Mother Nature for over 6 years. Honoring women's and girl's (human) rights and Mother Nature are very important to me and so I agonized over the words to keep and those to let go, the tone, the flow and so on. I edited the poem down from 11 pages to a page and a half and it still didn't feel right until I realized it was meant to be shared by many voices standing as one. With only seven days notice, I sent email invitations and created a Facebook event and invited all the inspiring sisters I knew to stand with me and share their voices and hearts to help give life to the poem "The Women Of The World Are Crying". I was incredibly touched that nine beautiful souls were able to commit on such short notice.

We read the poem three times as we had technical difficulties and commuting problems. Each time we read in reverence, in prayer and in solidarity. No word was taken for granted. Each one of us felt our sisters' pain, our sisters' despair, our sisters' sadness, our sisters' outrage and our sisters' conviction to end the violence, the suffering, the oppression and the exploitation of women, girls and Mother Earth. This was not an easy read but it gave us the opportunity to speak painful truths and to raise our voices as one..."The women of the world are crying, No More! No More! No More! 10 women of different ages, ethnic backgrounds and professions, some having never met before this day, standing in solidarity as one voice and one heart sharing, "The Women Of The World Are Crying".

"The Women Of The World Are Crying" By Aurora Ferrer

The Women Of The World Are Crying

A newborn Staring up, through her lifeless eyesfrom the bottom of a basin of water,and the women of the world are crying.

Dissecting nature’s architecturewith a sharpened piece of glass,the nine year old is held down by her mother,and the women of the world are crying.

His hand slowly rises up her skirtwhile the other covers her mouth,he promises it won’t hurt one day,and the women of the world are crying.

Women losing the ownership of their bodies,religion, man, and culture dictate, all pulling in different directions,and the women of the world are crying.

Large metal shipping containers filled withrice, water, salted fish and human sardines,fresh girls needed to feed the starved of virtue,and the women of the world are crying.

Machetes make short work of what is left of her, she is a human sacrifice, a female at the altar of war,and the women of the world are crying.

Sorority girl cocktail with a special knock-out punch,friends too busy being popular to care,bruises, hyckies, broken hymen, severed heart,and the women of the world are crying.

First-world/Third-world; She is a second class citizen,glass ceilings, economic dependency, poverty, keep her soul in slavery and blind her to her worth, and the women of the world are crying.

Bombs falling over cities,cement and mortar turn human bodies into abstract sidewalk oil paintings,and the women of the world are crying.Their tears gathered, swelling rivers,turbulent waters of pain, despair, neglect, abuse,each drop imprinted with their memories.Screams, howls, and prayers, collidecreating a super-sonic-boom that shakes the land,faults split, continents shift, waves erase all trace,and the women of the world are crying.

Collective-female-pain body reaching deep into the Earth,raped and pillaged, drilled and cutpoisoned by toxic minds and greed,she hemorrhages black into the Gulf,and the women of the world are crying.

Why can’t we see that we are each other. Our molecules intertwined dancing from place to space and back again.We are the children of the Earthand the children of our Mothers’.There is no pain inflicted on HERThat does not find its way back to the sender.

Reason - limiting vision Intellect - crushing dreamsAggression - destroying imagination The known - impeding discoveryThe rhythm of nature is askew The angles are silent...And the women of the world are crying,NO MORE!!! NO MORE!!! NO MORE!!!By Aurora Ferrer

I would like to thank Horacio A. Gomez and Kadante Ferrer of Hip Hop Martial Arts for the photography and filming, Roland H. Ferrer from Sound of Zero for entertaining us with his music and Roland Ferrer Sr. for proving the food, the setup and the cleanup. Thank you to my all my sisters that were unable to participate but wished us well and were with us in spirit and a very special thank you to the sisters that made this possible Bertha Banuelos, Conchita Gomez, Erin Haffner, Athena Heller, Charlene Larson, Katya Miller, Sandra Neunuebel, Franci Pennington, Brianna Malaya Regan and Miss Bitsy. Your voices and hearts were exactly what this poem had been missing all along. I am forever grateful for your generosity of spirit, courage and sisterhood.

Thank you for honoring the feminine and thank you for visiting. Wishing you peace.

You can find more information about Aurora Ferrer and Self-Actualization thru Women's Empowerment at:

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Tree Change Dolls are beyond beautiful! They embody so much and all in such a little package. Tasmanian artist and scientist Sonia Singh gives worth to that which others have thrown away. She recycles old dolls and gives them a new purpose and a fresh start. Sonia is the epitome of Recycle/Repurpose/Reuse! She also cares enough to allow the unique and authentic beauty of each doll find its way to the surface.It is difficult to imagine the dolls in the before pictures going camping, playing a sport or playing outdoors. The before dolls faces are relegated to going out to a party or a disco. They (before dolls) don’t prompt introspection, authenticity or natural beauty. In the hands of Sonia and her crochet master mother these dolls take on a new life full of even greater possibilities.

The new dolls' simplicity is empowering to children by giving them an imaginary friend that better reflects their own natural beauty. They are a blend of artistic mastery with inspired conservationist and a healthy dose of honoring the feminine.Sonia also donates 10% of her monthly earnings to charitable organizations and causes. Here is a link to her FAQ page where she gives a monthly accounting of her donations. http://treechangedolls.tumblr.com/faqShe also has a do it yourself page on her website and encourages other to recycle their dolls and toys. You can view the page at http://treechangedolls.tumblr.com/diyLove Love Love her work! Sonia is an inspiration and a true Shero!"Tree Change Dolls is about recycling to create dolls that reflect real children ready to explore the world!"

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Below you will find Ralph Waldo Emerson's essay on beauty along with some of his better known quotes. External beauty is relative. It changes from culture to culture as well as constantly reinvents itself throughout history. Here Emerson brings awareness to all that beauty encompasses. He walks us through the ages and has us reflect not only on physical beauty but on beauty itself. This work reminds us that there is beauty in ourselves and in all that surrounds us. Beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder.

BEAUTY

Was never form and never face

So sweet to SEYD as only grace

Which did not slumber like a stone

But hovered gleaming and was gone.

Beauty chased he everywhere,

In flame, in storm, in clouds of air.

He smote the lake to feed his eye

With the beryl beam of the broken wave

He flung in pebbles well to hear

The moment's music which they gave.

Oft pealed for him a lofty tone

From nodding pole and belting zone.

He heard a voice none else could hear

From centred and from errant sphere.

The quaking earth did quake in rhyme,

Seas ebbed and flowed in epic chime.

In dens of passion, and pits of wo,

He saw strong Eros struggling through,

To sun the dark and solve the curse,

And beam to the bounds of the universe.

While thus to love he gave his days

In loyal worship, scorning praise,

How spread their lures for him, in vain,

Thieving Ambition and paltering Gain!

He thought it happier to be dead,

To die for Beauty, than live for bread.

The spiral tendency of vegetation infects education also. Our books approach very slowly the things we most wish to know. What a parade we make of our science, and how far off, and at arm's length, it is from its objects! Our botany is all names, not powers: poets and romancers talk of herbs of grace and healing; but what does the botanist know of the virtues of his weeds? The geologist lays bare the strata, and can tell them all on his fingers: but does he know what effect passes into the man who builds his house in them? what effect on the race that inhabits a granite shelf? what on the inhabitants of marl and of alluvium?

We should go to the ornithologist with a new feeling, if he could teach us what the social birds say, when they sit in the autumn council, talking together in the trees. The want of sympathy makes his record a dull dictionary. His result is a dead bird. The bird is not in its ounces and inches, but in its relations to Nature; and the skin or skeleton you show me, is no more a heron, than a heap of ashes or a bottle of gases into which his body has been reduced, is Dante or Washington. The naturalist is led from the road by the whole distance of his fancied advance. The boy had juster views when he gazed at the shells on the beach, or the flowers in the meadow, unable to call them by their names, than the man in the pride of his nomenclature. Astrology interested us, for it tied man to the system. Instead of an isolated beggar, the farthest star felt him, and he felt the star. However rash and however falsified by pretenders and traders in it, the hint was true and divine, the soul's avowal of its large relations, and, that climate, century, remote natures, as well as near, are part of its biography. Chemistry takes to pieces, but it does not construct. Alchemy which sought to transmute one element into another, to prolong life, to arm with power,—that was in the right direction. All our science lacks a human side. The tenant is more than the house. Bugs and stamens and spores, on which we lavish so many years, are not finalities, and man, when his powers unfold in order, will take Nature along with him, and emit light into all her recesses. The human heart concerns us more than the poring into microscopes, and is larger than can be measured by the pompous figures of the astronomer.We are just so frivolous and skeptical. Men hold themselves cheap and vile: and yet a man is a fagot of thunderbolts. All the elements pour through his system: he is the flood of the flood, and fire of the fire; he feels the antipodes and the pole, as drops of his blood: they are the extension of his personality. His duties are measured by that instrument he is; and a right and perfect man would be felt to the centre of the Copernican system. 'Tis curious that we only believe as deep as we live. We do not think heroes can exert any more awful power than that surface-play which amuses us. A deep man believes in miracles, waits for them, believes in magic, believes that the orator will decompose his adversary; believes that the evil eye can wither, that the heart's blessing can heal; that love can exalt talent; can overcome all odds. From a great heart secret magnetisms flow incessantly to draw great events. But we prize very humble utilities, a prudent husband, a good son, a voter, a citizen, and deprecate any romance of character; and perhaps reckon only his money value,—his intellect, his affection, as a sort of bill of exchange, easily convertible into fine chambers, pictures, music, and wine.

The motive of science was the extension of man, on all sides, into Nature, till his hands should touch the stars, his eyes see through the earth, his ears understand the language of beast and bird, and the sense of the wind; and, through his sympathy, heaven and earth should talk with him. But that is not our science. These geologies, chemistries, astronomies, seem to make wise, but they leave us where they found us. The invention is of use to the inventor, of questionable help to any other. The formulas of science are like the papers in your pocket-book, of no value to any but the owner. Science in England, in America, is jealous of theory, hates the name of love and moral purpose. There's a revenge for this inhumanity. What manner of man does science make? The boy is not attracted. He says, I do not wish to be such a kind of man as my professor is. The collector has dried all the plants in his herbal, but he has lost weight and humor. He has got all snakes and lizards in his phials, but science has done for him also, and has put the man into a bottle. Our reliance on the physician is a kind of despair of ourselves. The clergy have bronchitis, which does not seem a certificate of spiritual health. Macready thought it came of the falsetto of their voicing. An Indian prince, Tisso, one day riding in the forest, saw a herd of elk sporting. "See how happy," he said, "these browsing elks are! Why should not priests, lodged and fed comfortably in the temples, also amuse themselves?" Returning home, he imparted this reflection to the king. The king, on the next day, conferred the sovereignty on him, saying, "Prince, administer this empire for seven days: at the termination of that period, I shall put thee to death." At the end of the seventh day, the king inquired, "From what cause hast thou become so emaciated?" He answered, "From the horror of death." The monarch rejoined: "Live, my child, and be wise. Thou hast ceased to take recreation, saying to thyself, in seven days I shall be put to death. These priests in the temple incessantly meditate on death; how can they enter into healthful diversions?" But the men of science or the doctors or the clergy are not victims of their pursuits, more than others. The miller, the lawyer, and the merchant, dedicate themselves to their own details, and do not come out men of more force. Have they divination, grand aims, hospitality of soul, and the equality to any event, which we demand in man, or only the reactions of the mill, of the wares, of the chicane?No object really interests us but man, and in man only his superiorities; and, though we are aware of a perfect law in Nature, it has fascination for us only through its relation to him, or, as it is rooted in the mind. At the birth of Winckelmann, more than a hundred years ago, side by side with this arid, departmental, post mortem science, rose an enthusiasm in the study of Beauty; and perhaps some sparks from it may yet light a conflagration in the other. Knowledge of men, knowledge of manners, the power of form, and our sensibility to personal influence, never go out of fashion. These are facts of a science which we study without book, whose teachers and subjects are always near us.

So inveterate is our habit of criticism, that much of our knowledge in this direction belongs to the chapter of pathology. The crowd in the street oftener furnishes degradations than angels or redeemers: but they all prove the transparency. Every spirit makes its house; and we can give a shrewd guess from the house to the inhabitant. But not less does Nature furnish us with every sign of grace and goodness. The delicious faces of children, the beauty of school-girls, "the sweet seriousness of sixteen," the lofty air of well-born, well-bred boys, the passionate histories in the looks and manners of youth and early manhood, and the varied power in all that well-known company that escort us through life,—we know how these forms thrill, paralyze, provoke, inspire, and enlarge us.Beauty is the form under which the intellect prefers to study the world. All privilege is that of beauty; for there are many beauties; as, of general nature, of the human face and form, of manners, of brain, or method, moral beauty, or beauty of the soul.The ancients believed that a genius or demon took possession at birth of each mortal, to guide him; that these genii were sometimes seen as a flame of fire partly immersed in the bodies which they governed;—on an evil man, resting on his head; in a good man, mixed with his substance. They thought the same genius, at the death of its ward, entered a new-born child, and they pretended to guess the pilot, by the sailing of the ship. We recognize obscurely the same fact, though we give it our own names. We say, that every man is entitled to be valued by his best moment. We measure our friends so. We know, they have intervals of folly, whereof we take no heed, but wait the reappearings of the genius, which are sure and beautiful. On the other side, everybody knows people who appear beridden, and who, with all degrees of ability, never impress us with the air of free agency. They know it too, and peep with their eyes to see if you detect their sad plight. We fancy, could we pronounce the solving word, and disenchant them, the cloud would roll up, the little rider would be discovered and unseated, and they would regain their freedom. The remedy seems never to be far off, since the first step into thought lifts this mountain of necessity. Thought is the pent air-ball which can rive the planet, and the beauty which certain objects have for him, is the friendly fire which expands the thought, and acquaints the prisoner that liberty and power await him.

The question of Beauty takes us out of surfaces, to thinking of the foundations of things. Goethe said, "The beautiful is a manifestation of secret laws of Nature, which, but for this appearance, had been forever concealed from us." And the working of this deep instinct makes all the excitement—much of it superficial and absurd enough—about works of art, which leads armies of vain travellers every year to Italy, Greece, and Egypt. Every man values every acquisition he makes in the science of beauty, above his possessions. The most useful man in the most useful world, so long as only commodity was served, would remain unsatisfied. But, as fast as he sees beauty, life acquires a very high value.I am warned by the ill fate of many philosophers not to attempt a definition of Beauty. I will rather enumerate a few of its qualities. We ascribe beauty to that which is simple; which has no superfluous parts; which exactly answers its end; which stands related to all things; which is the mean of many extremes. It is the most enduring quality, and the most ascending quality. We say, love is blind, and the figure of Cupid is drawn with a bandage round his eyes. Blind:—yes, because he does not see what he does not like; but the sharpest-sighted hunter in the universe is Love, for finding what he seeks, and only that; and the mythologists tell us, that Vulcan was painted lame, and Cupid blind, to call attention to the fact, that one was all limbs, and the other, all eyes. In the true mythology, Love is an immortal child, and Beauty leads him as a guide: nor can we express a deeper sense than when we say, Beauty is the pilot of the young soul.Beyond their sensuous delight, the forms and colors of Nature have a new charm for us in our perception, that not one ornament was added for ornament, but is a sign of some better health, or more excellent action. Elegance of form in bird or beast, or in the human figure, marks some excellence of structure: or beauty is only an invitation from what belongs to us. 'Tis a law of botany, that in plants, the same virtues follow the same forms. It is a rule of largest application, true in a plant, true in a loaf of bread, that in the construction of any fabric or organism, any real increase of fitness to its end, is an increase of beauty.

The lesson taught by the study of Greek and of Gothic art, of antique and of Pre-Raphaelite painting, was worth all the research,—namely, that all beauty must be organic; that outside embellishment is deformity. It is the soundness of the bones that ultimates itself in a peach-bloom complexion: health of constitution that makes the sparkle and the power of the eye. 'Tis the adjustment of the size and of the joining of the sockets of the skeleton, that gives grace of outline and the finer grace of movement. The cat and the deer cannot move or sit inelegantly. The dancing-master can never teach a badly built man to walk well. The tint of the flower proceeds from its root, and the lustres of the sea-shell begin with its existence. Hence our taste in building rejects paint, and all shifts, and shows the original grain of the wood: refuses pilasters and columns that support nothing, and allows the real supporters of the house honestly to show themselves. Every necessary or organic action pleases the beholder. A man leading a horse to water, a farmer sowing seed, the labors of haymakers in the field, the carpenter building a ship, the smith at his forge, or, whatever useful labor, is becoming to the wise eye. But if it is done to be seen, it is mean. How beautiful are ships on the sea! but ships in the theatre,—or ships kept for picturesque effect on Virginia Water, by George IV., and men hired to stand in fitting costumes at a penny an hour!—What a difference in effect between a battalion of troops marching to action, and one of our independent companies on a holiday! In the midst of a military show, and a festal procession gay with banners, I saw a boy seize an old tin pan that lay rusting under a wall, and poising it on the top of a stick, he set it turning, and made it describe the most elegant imaginable curves, and drew away attention from the decorated procession by this startling beauty.

Another text from the mythologists. The Greeks fabled that Venus was born of the foam of the sea. Nothing interests us which is stark or bounded, but only what streams with life, what is in act or endeavor to reach somewhat beyond. The pleasure a palace or a temple gives the eye, is, that an order and method has been communicated to stones, so that they speak and geometrize, become tender or sublime with expression. Beauty is the moment of transition, as if the form were just ready to flow into other forms. Any fixedness, heaping, or concentration on one feature,—a long nose, a sharp chin, a hump-back,—is the reverse of the flowing, and therefore deformed. Beautiful as is the symmetry of any form, if the form can move, we seek a more excellent symmetry. The interruption of equilibrium stimulates the eye to desire the restoration of symmetry, and to watch the steps through which it is attained. This is the charm of running water, sea-waves, the flight of birds, and the locomotion of animals. This is the theory of dancing, to recover continually in changes the lost equilibrium, not by abrupt and angular, but by gradual and curving movements. I have been told by persons of experience in matters of taste, that the fashions follow a law of gradation, and are never arbitrary. The new mode is always only a step onward in the same direction as the last mode; and a cultivated eye is prepared for and predicts the new fashion. This fact suggests the reason of all mistakes and offence in our own modes. It is necessary in music, when you strike a discord, to let down the ear by an intermediate note or two to the accord again: and many a good experiment, born of good sense, and destined to succeed, fails, only because it is offensively sudden. I suppose, the Parisian milliner who dresses the world from her imperious boudoir will know how to reconcile the Bloomer costume to the eye of mankind, and make it triumphant over Punch himself, by interposing the just gradations. I need not say, how wide the same law ranges; and how much it can be hoped to effect. All that is a little harshly claimed by progressive parties, may easily come to be conceded without question, if this rule be observed. Thus the circumstances may be easily imagined, in which woman may speak, vote, argue causes, legislate, and drive a coach, and all the most naturally in the world, if only it come by degrees. To this streaming or flowing belongs the beauty that all circular movement has; as, the circulation of waters, the circulation of the blood, the periodical motion of planets, the annual wave of vegetation, the action and reaction of Nature: and, if we follow it out, this demand in our thought for an ever-onward action, is the argument for the immortality.One more text from the mythologists is to the same purpose,—Beauty rides on a lion. Beauty rests on necessities. The line of beauty is the result of perfect economy. The cell of the bee is built at that angle which gives the most strength with the least wax; the bone or the quill of the bird gives the most alar strength, with the least weight. "It is the purgation of superfluities," said Michel Angelo. There is not a particle to spare in natural structures. There is a compelling reason in the uses of the plant, for every novelty of color or form: and our art saves material, by more skilful arrangement, and reaches beauty by taking every superfluous ounce that can be spared from a wall, and keeping all its strength in the poetry of columns. In rhetoric, this art of omission is a chief secret of power, and, in general, it is proof of high culture, to say the greatest matters in the simplest way.

Veracity first of all, and forever. Rien de beau que le vrai. In all design, art lies in making your object prominent, but there is a prior art in choosing objects that are prominent. The fine arts have nothing casual, but spring from the instincts of the nations that created them.Beauty is the quality which makes to endure. In a house that I know, I have noticed a block of spermaceti lying about closets and mantel-pieces, for twenty years together, simply because the tallow-man gave it the form of a rabbit; and, I suppose, it may continue to be lugged about unchanged for a century. Let an artist scrawl a few lines or figures on the back of a letter, and that scrap of paper is rescued from danger, is put in portfolio, is framed and glazed, and, in proportion to the beauty of the lines drawn, will be kept for centuries. Burns writes a copy of verses, and sends them to a newspaper, and the human race take charge of them that they shall not perish.As the flute is heard farther than the cart, see how surely a beautiful form strikes the fancy of men, and is copied and reproduced without end. How many copies are there of the Belvedere Apollo, the Venus, the Psyche, the Warwick Vase, the Parthenon, and the Temple of Vesta? These are objects of tenderness to all. In our cities, an ugly building is soon removed, and is never repeated, but any beautiful building is copied and improved upon, so that all masons and carpenters work to repeat and preserve the agreeable forms, whilst the ugly ones die out.The felicities of design in art, or in works of Nature, are shadows or forerunners of that beauty which reaches its perfection in the human form. All men are its lovers. Wherever it goes, it creates joy and hilarity, and everything is permitted to it. It reaches its height in woman. "To Eve," say the Mahometans, "God gave two thirds of all beauty." A beautiful woman is a practical poet, taming her savage mate, planting tenderness, hope, and eloquence, in all whom she approaches. Some favors of condition must go with it, since a certain serenity is essential, but we love its reproofs and superiorities. Nature wishes that woman should attract man, yet she often cunningly moulds into her face a little sarcasm, which seems to say, 'Yes, I am willing to attract, but to attract a little better kind of a man than any I yet behold.' French mémoires of the fifteenth century celebrate the name of Pauline de Viguiere, a virtuous and accomplished maiden, who so fired the enthusiasm of her contemporaries, by her enchanting form, that the citizens of her native city of Toulouse obtained the aid of the civil authorities to compel her to appear publicly on the balcony at least twice a week, and, as often as she showed herself, the crowd was dangerous to life. Not less, in England, in the last century, was the fame of the Gunnings, of whom, Elizabeth married the Duke of Hamilton; and Maria, the Earl of Coventry. Walpole says, "the concourse was so great, when the Duchess of Hamilton was presented at court, on Friday, that even the noble crowd in the drawing-room clambered on chairs and tables to look at her. There are mobs at their doors to see them get into their chairs, and people go early to get places at the theatres, when it is known they will be there." "Such crowds," he adds, elsewhere, "flock to see the Duchess of Hamilton, that seven hundred people sat up all night, in and about an inn, in Yorkshire, to see her get into her post-chaise next morning."But why need we console ourselves with the fames of Helen of Argos, or Corinna, or Pauline of Toulouse, or the Duchess of Hamilton? We all know this magic very well, or can divine it. It does not hurt weak eyes to look into beautiful eyes never so long. Women stand related to beautiful Nature around us, and the enamored youth mixes their form with moon and stars, with woods and waters, and the pomp of summer. They heal us of awkwardness by their words and looks. We observe their intellectual influence on the most serious student. They refine and clear his mind; teach him to put a pleasing method into what is dry and difficult. We talk to them, and wish to be listened to; we fear to fatigue them, and acquire a facility of expression which passes from conversation into habit of style.

That Beauty is the normal state, is shown by the perpetual effort of Nature to attain it. Mirabeau had an ugly face on a handsome ground; and we see faces every day which have a good type, but have been marred in the casting: a proof that we are all entitled to beauty, should have been beautiful, if our ancestors had kept the laws,—as every lily and every rose is well. But our bodies do not fit us, but caricature and satirize us. Thus, short legs, which constrain us to short, mincing steps, are a kind of personal insult and contumely to the owner; and long stilts, again, put him at perpetual disadvantage, and force him to stoop to the general level of mankind. Martial ridicules a gentleman of his day whose countenance resembled the face of a swimmer seen under water. Saadi describes a schoolmaster "so ugly and crabbed, that a sight of him would derange the ecstasies of the orthodox." Faces are rarely true to any ideal type, but are a record in sculpture of a thousand anecdotes of whim and folly. Portrait painters say that most faces and forms are irregular and unsymmetrical; have one eye blue, and one gray; the nose not straight; and one shoulder higher than another; the hair unequally distributed, etc. The man is physically as well as metaphysically a thing of shreds and patches, borrowed unequally from good and bad ancestors, and a misfit from the start.A beautiful person, among the Greeks, was thought to betray by this sign some secret favor of the immortal gods: and we can pardon pride, when a woman possesses such a figure, that wherever she stands, or moves, or leaves a shadow on the wall, or sits for a portrait to the artist, she confers a favor on the world. And yet—it is not beauty that inspires the deepest passion. Beauty without grace is the hook without the bait. Beauty, without expression, tires. Abbé Ménage said of the President Le Bailleul, "that he was fit for nothing but to sit for his portrait." A Greek epigram intimates that the force of love is not shown by the courting of beauty, but when the like desire is inflamed for one who is ill-favored. And petulant old gentlemen, who have chanced to suffer some intolerable weariness from pretty people, or who have seen cut flowers to some profusion, or who see, after a world of pains have been successfully taken for the costume, how the least mistake in sentiment takes all the beauty out of your clothes,—affirm, that the secret of ugliness consists not in irregularity, but in being uninteresting.We love any forms, however ugly, from which great qualities shine. If command, eloquence, art, or invention, exist in the most deformed person, all the accidents that usually displease, please, and raise esteem and wonder higher. The great orator was an emaciated, insignificant person, but he was all brain. Cardinal De Retz says of De Bouillon, "With the physiognomy of an ox, he had the perspicacity of an eagle." It was said of Hooke, the friend of Newton, "he is the most, and promises the least, of any man in England." "Since I am so ugly," said Du Guesclin, "it behooves that I be bold." Sir Philip Sidney, the darling of mankind, Ben Jonson tells us, "was no pleasant man in countenance, his face being spoiled with pimples, and of high blood, and long." Those who have ruled human destinies, like planets, for thousands of years, were not handsome men. If a man can raise a small city to be a great kingdom, can make bread cheap, can irrigate deserts, can join oceans by canals, can subdue steam, can organize victory, can lead the opinions of mankind, can enlarge knowledge, 'tis no matter whether his nose is parallel to his spine, as it ought to be, or whether he has a nose at all: whether his legs are straight, or whether his legs are amputated; his deformities will come to be reckoned ornamental, and advantageous on the whole. This is the triumph of expression, degrading beauty, charming us with a power so fine and friendly and intoxicating, that it makes admired persons insipid, and the thought of passing our lives with them insupportable. There are faces so fluid with expression, so flushed and rippled by the play of thought, that we can hardly find what the mere features really are. When the delicious beauty of lineaments loses its power, it is because a more delicious beauty has appeared; that an interior and durable form has been disclosed. Still, Beauty rides on her lion, as before. Still, "it was for beauty that the world was made." The lives of the Italian artists, who established a despotism of genius amidst the dukes and kings and mobs of their stormy epoch, prove how loyal men in all times are to a finer brain, a finer method, than their own. If a man can cut such a head on his stone gate-post as shall draw and keep a crowd about it all day, by its beauty, good nature, and inscrutable meaning:—if a man can build a plain cottage with such symmetry, as to make all the fine palaces look cheap and vulgar; can take such advantage of Nature, that all her powers serve him; making use of geometry, instead of expense; tapping a mountain for his water-jet; causing the sun and moon to seem only the decorations of his estate; this is still the legitimate dominion of beauty.

The radiance of the human form, though sometimes astonishing, is only a burst of beauty for a few years or a few months, at the perfection of youth, and in most, rapidly declines. But we remain lovers of it, only transferring our interest to interior excellence. And it is not only admirable in singular and salient talents, but also in the world of manners.But the sovereign attribute remains to be noted. Things are pretty, graceful, rich, elegant, handsome, but, until they speak to the imagination, not yet beautiful. This is the reason why beauty is still escaping out of all analysis. It is not yet possessed, it cannot be handled. Proclus says, "it swims on the light of forms." It is properly not in the form, but in the mind. It instantly deserts possession, and flies to an object in the horizon. If I could put my hand on the north star, would it be as beautiful? The sea is lovely, but when we bathe in it, the beauty forsakes all the near water. For the imagination and senses cannot be gratified at the same time. Wordsworth rightly speaks of "a light that never was on sea or land," meaning, that it was supplied by the observer, and the Welsh bard warns his countrywomen, that

—"half of their charms with Cadwallon shall die."

The new virtue which constitutes a thing beautiful, is a certain cosmical quality, or, a power to suggest relation to the whole world, and so lift the object out of a pitiful individuality. Every natural feature,—sea, sky, rainbow, flowers, musical tone,—has in it somewhat which is not private, but universal, speaks of that central benefit which is the soul of Nature, and thereby is beautiful. And, in chosen men and women, I find somewhat in form, speech, and manners, which is not of their person and family, but of a humane, catholic, and spiritual character, and we love them as the sky. They have a largeness of suggestion, and their face and manners carry a certain grandeur, like time and justice.The feat of the imagination is in showing the convertibility of every thing into every other thing. Facts which had never before left their stark common sense, suddenly figure as Eleusinian mysteries. My boots and chair and candlestick are fairies in disguise, meteors and constellations. All the facts in Nature are nouns of the intellect, and make the grammar of the eternal language. Every word has a double, treble, or centuple use and meaning, What! has my stove and pepper-pot a false bottom! I cry you mercy, good shoe-box! I did not know you were a jewel-case. Chaff and dust begin to sparkle, and are clothed about with immortality. And there is a joy in perceiving the representative or symbolic character of a fact, which no bare fact or event can ever give. There are no days in life so memorable as those which vibrated to some stroke of the imagination.The poets are quite right in decking their mistresses with the spoils of the landscape, flower-gardens, gems, rainbows, flushes of morning, and stars of night, since all beauty points at identity, and whatsoever thing does not express to me the sea and sky, day and night, is somewhat forbidden and wrong. Into every beautiful object, there enters somewhat immeasurable and divine, and just as much into form bounded by outlines, like mountains on the horizon, as into tones of music, or depths of space. Polarized light showed the secret architecture of bodies; and when the second-sight of the mind is opened, now one color or form or gesture, and now another, has a pungency, as if a more interior ray had been emitted, disclosing its deep holdings in the frame of things.The laws of this translation we do not know, or why one feature or gesture enchants, why one word or syllable intoxicates, but the fact is familiar that the fine touch of the eye, or a grace of manners, or a phrase of poetry, plants wings at our shoulders; as if the Divinity, in his approaches, lifts away mountains of obstruction, and deigns to draw a truer line, which the mind knows and owns. This is that haughty force of beauty, "vis superb formæ" which the poets praise,—under calm and precise outline, the immeasurable and divine: Beauty hiding all wisdom and power in its calm sky.All high beauty has a moral element in it, and I find the antique sculpture as ethical as Marcus Antoninus: and the beauty ever in proportion to the depth of thought. Gross and obscure natures, however decorated, seem impure shambles; but character gives splendor to youth, and awe to wrinkled skin and gray hairs. An adorer of truth we cannot choose but obey, and the woman who has shared with us the moral sentiment,—her locks must appear to us sublime. Thus there is a climbing scale of culture, from the first agreeable sensation which a sparkling gem or a scarlet stain affords the eye, up through fair outlines and details of the landscape, features of the human face and form, signs and tokens of thought and character in manners, up to the ineffable mysteries of the intellect. Wherever we begin, thither our steps tend: an ascent from the joy of a horse in his trappings, up to the perception of Newton, that the globe on which we ride is only a larger apple falling from a larger tree; up to the perception of Plato, that globe and universe are rude and early expressions of an all-dissolving Unity,—the first stair on the scale to the temple of the Mind.

"Beauty" is reprinted from The Conduct of Life. Ralph Waldo Emerson. Boston: James R. Osgood and Company, 1871.

Thank you for honoring the feminine and thank you for visiting. Wishing you peace.

You can find more information about Aurora Ferrer and Self-Actualization thru Women's Empowerment at:

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

The Self-Actualization thru Women's Empowerment Weekly Class is a unique women’s self-defense & empowerment program that views the mind, body, emotions and spirit as equally important components to develop for personal growth and physical safety.

Most of us were never taught how to use our bodies effectively to protect ourselves and/or our loved ones. Many of us think that due to our age, physical limitations or fitness level we can't learn to defend ourselves, but nothing is further from the truth. Regardless of our perceived limitations each one of us has the ability to learn how to be more physically self-reliant, effective and confident. There is an important paradigm shift in consciousness that happens when we realize that we are more powerful, resourceful and resilient than we thought. Our program's goal is to help each participant find a deeper level of authenticity, a better understanding of her true power and the genuine confidence that can only come through self-actualization.

Integration is key. What sets this program apart from other "women's self-defense programs" is that we believe that to create lasting and applicable change we must address the whole of the person: mind, emotions, and spirit, not just the body. What sets this program apart from other "women's empowerment programs" is that we bring connection and practical application to the physical element of personal power.

This class addresses the body through learning simple/effective self-defense techniques, sensory and proprioception exercises, as well as some light Pilates and stretches. The mind and emotions are addressed through campfire exercises and journal work. The spirit is addressed by the individual, in her own unique way, throughout the course.

This course is open to women 18 years and older. Younger students may participate only in conjunction with a female parent or guardian over the age of 18 years. The program accommodates for any fitness level or physical limitation(s).

Interview on Spanish television of Aurora Ferrer on the Mabel Katz Show talking about the power of the feminine and how women can use martial arts to further develop self-confidence and greater independence. Si se puede! Yes we can! What to bring: Water, yoga mat and a positive can do attitude.

What to wear: Please wear comfortable clothing that doesn't constrict movement.Space is extremely limited for March so pre-registration is a must to ensure your place in the class. Pre-register by emailing info@ManaKeepers.com.

March Class Schedule:Classes meet every Wednesday in MarchWed, 3/2/16 7:15pm - 8:30pmWed, 3/9/16 7:15pm - 8:30pmWed, 3/16/16 7:15pm - 8:30pmWed, 3/23/16 7:15pm - 8:30pmWed, 3/30/16 7:15pm - 8:30pmCost:Paid Monthly - one payment of $100 (Payment must be received prior to or on first class meeting)Paid per class - weekly payment of $25.00 total of $125.00(Only valid with commitment to complete the month of March classes. Continuity is essential for the optimum class experience, for yourself and for the other students.)We have no make-up classes or refunds for missed days but if you are unable to attend a class you can keep current through completing the course materials for that class at home.Material Fee - $10.00 - (Material Fee waived for returning students)

Location: La Mirada, CA

Thank you for honoring the feminine and thank you for visiting. Wishing you peace.

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Neighbors Helping Neighbors, Family Assistance Center is located in Whittier, CA at the St. Gregory the Great Catholic Church. They are an all volunteer run organization that provides food and clothing for low income families. They service families in need in unincorporated areas of South and East Whittier, Santa Fe Springs, Norwalk, La Mirada, Pico Rivera and Downey. It is open to people in need of all faiths. The volunteers are all women and NHN helps many women that are supporting their families on their own.

clothing and toys for a few months. We held food drives through a couple of our studios, In the Flow Studios Arts and Kadan Martial Arts, and were not prepared for the overwhelming gratitude upon delivering our donations. Sadly their pantry was almost empty before we brought the food we had collected. Many families would have needed to make it on a can of food for the day. It was difficult to believe that an organization dedicated to helping so many in need would be suffering in this way. My family and I decided that day that while we may not have much extra cash at the moment we would find ways to help this heart-run organization.

Our next donation was personal. We began with clothing. Over the years we've accumulated our fair share of clothes that are still new but we've outgrown, our tastes have changed, our lifestyle has changed, etc. Suffice to say we will not use these clothes, shoes, hats again. We gathered everything we could washed and cleaned the items and delivered our next donations. Again we we met with genuine gratitude and joy for all the people that would be helped. But as we walked back into the food pantry again we were met by empty shelves.

My heart fell to my stomach when I realized the people we had passed on the way in would have no proteins to bring home, or bread, or fresh vegetables. They would not leave empty handed as all in need are given food but they would not have enough to provide the basics needed for a nutritional meal, especially if they needed to feed growing children.

I'm writing this post because I know that while many of us may not be able to afford extras or luxuries at the moment we know there are others that are less fortunate and we want to help. One of the noblest ways to express our gratitude for what we have is to be charitable with those that have less. There are many ways we can be a light for another human being without much sacrifice. We can spare useful household items that we are not using. We can donate jackets, shoes, clothes that we no longer wear. We can donate money, no amount is too small and it's tax deductible. We can donate a few extra cans of food we buy in bulk at warehouse stores.

Providing food is Neighbors Helping Neighbors' primary mission. They are committed to never allowing anyone in need leave empty handed but they can only fulfill their commitment with our help. Beans, bread, rice, canned beef, vegetables and fruits are needed staple items in their pantry. They also try to buy fresh fruits and vegetables whenever possible. They accept and appreciate fresh produce donations from your own backyards.

While fixing all the world's problems seems a monumental task we can take our first steps towards it by helping our neighbors get through the day with a meal and a warm coat. I urge those that are local and inspired to reach out to Neighbors Helping Neighbors and find a way to lend some help. And please stop by inperson to see for yourself the good they are doing.

A special note for the months of October, November and December they collect food, clothing and toys for Thanksgiving and for Christmas.

"Neighbors Helping Neighbors is a non-profit community-based organization working to strengthen individuals and families in Whittier and surrounding communities.

About NHM Food Pantry: The principal service is the provision of food. Among the items provided on a weekly basis to families in unincorporated areas of South and East Whittier, Santa Fe Springs, Norwalk, La Mirada, Pico Rivera and Downey are bread products and two or more shopping bags, including produce and non-perishable items.

An average of 30-50 families and 188 individuals are assisted on a daily basis.

NHN does not require a social security number thus serving a population that might otherwise go hungry."